


Evening in the British Museum

by ellejaymac



Category: Midnight in Paris (2011)
Genre: Blowjobs, Michael Sheen - Freeform, Parthenon marbles, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, it's not really him but be honest he's why you're reading it, museum sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24628963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellejaymac/pseuds/ellejaymac
Summary: Paul, being a man who appreciates the finer things in life, pulls some strings to get you an after-hours tour of the British Museum.
Relationships: Paul Bates/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Evening in the British Museum

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing about this fic is plausible so just suspend your disbelief and enjoy! :)

You walked through the grand hall of the British Museum, looking up in awe at the evening light streaming through the glass ceiling. Paul was talking animatedly with the tour guide about the design of the hall. As you walked, your footsteps echoed in the empty space. Paul had managed to pull some strings and get you this tour after the museum had officially closed for the night. He had complained that there were too many “ignorant tourists gawping, slack-jawed” at the artefacts. You got the feeling that you weren’t the first person he’d arranged this sort of thing for, judging by how at ease he was with the guide. 

You walked through hall after hall of artefacts, Paul talking almost incessantly with the tour guide. A lot of what they were saying went over your head - conversation about the pharaohs, ancient mesopotamian religions, philosophy and classical mythology. You could tell Paul was trying hard to impress you by the way he kept looking at you, or tugging gently at your linked hands, every time he said something he thought was particularly clever or interesting. But you were determined not to indulge, and gave a studied show of only the mildest interest. It was fun to watch him try harder and get more frustrated and needy with every answer of "hmmm? Oh yeah, I suppose…" 

In a room full of medieval weaponry, the tour guide had clearly come into their own, and was droning on about sword design in 13th century Europe. Apparently, this was one of those rarest of subjects: something Paul had nothing to say about. Instead, he simply slipped a hand around your waist as you followed the guide through the display, allowing his hand to wander a little lower when the tour guide wasn't looking, though never low enough that you could justify telling him off for taking liberties. 

That said, you didn’t really mind Paul ‘taking liberties’. Yes, he was pedantic and a show-off, but he could also be a lot of fun under the right circumstances, and there was no part of you that would ever deny that he was a sexy bastard. You just enjoyed making him work for your attention - it kept him coming back for more. Nevertheless, you moved his hand back up to your waist and felt rather than heard him chuckle softly next to you. 

“Oh come oooon” he moaned softly in your ear, so that the guide wouldn’t hear while they were still monologuing in front of a display cabinet. You just looked at him and crooked an eyebrow. He chuckled again and, keeping eye contact with you, he slid his hand down to your ass, which he squeezed. Then, before you could respond, he had stepped away and was interrupting the guide’s spiel to ask about the design of a particularly ornate looking sabre.

You felt yourself flushing a little as you watched him walk off.

The tour guide had saved the Parthenon galleries for the last part of the tour, but as you walked towards the huge glass doors into the hall, the tour guide abruptly stopped.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I’ve just realised I forgot to lock up the Aztec exhibition when we left.”

“Oh that’s alright.” Paul replied. “I know the marbles well enough to practically give the tour myself to my friend here. Why don’t you go lock up the exhibition and we’ll meet you back at the exit when we’re done.”

“Yes okay.” They agreed suspiciously quickly and you raised your eyebrows, wondering if Paul had engineered this opportunity to get you on your own. But before you could voice your suspicions, Paul had his hand around your waist again and was maneuvering you into the galleries where the marbles were.

You were completely awestruck by the hall you entered. It was an enormous airy space, with marble floor, walls and ceiling. On the walls were the great parthenon marbles, treasures of ancient Greece. You walked slowly down the hall, only slightly listening to Paul’s explanations of the scenes of battle and of love depicted in the sculptures. As you neared the halfway point of your lap, you came level with an incredibly detailed sculpture of a reclining female figure. Her toga seemed to be rippling in some kind of breeze, and there was the barest hint of nipple visible. As you stared at it, you found that you couldn’t maintain your show of aloofness any longer.

“Aren’t they beautiful? I can’t believe human hands made these - they look like they should have been carved by the Gods…”

In lieu of an answer, Paul sidled up behind you and laid both hands on your hips.

“They’re not the most beautiful thing in here.” he whispered in your ear

You laughed at the cheesy line. “Was that you trying to be smooth?” you teased, though the line had had the desired effect, and you felt a fluttering tightness in your belly.

“Cut me some slack, it’s been a long few hours.”

“Oh?”

“I swear you’ve been trying to drive me mad. Barely even looking at me? Ignoring me?” He dug his fingers into your hip a little more deeply and you leaned back against him, enjoying the feeling of his well-kept beard scratching your neck. 

“You look so good.” He nibbled your earlobe. “You smell so good.” He inhaled deeply, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “You. taste. So. good.” He punctuated each word with an open mouthed kiss to your neck. “I swear I’ve barely noticed an exhibit all evening.” He was now gently biting the juncture of your neck, and you allowed a hand to drift up and tangle in his hair. You let your nails scrape at his neck a little and he moaned softly against your skin.

Paul drew away and stepped back, and you turned round and frowned at him. He grinned and held out a hand, which you took, and led you to one of the slabs of marble that served as benches, in the centre of the Parthenon gallery. He sat down and pulled you to straddle his lap, wrapping his arms tight around you as your mouths crashed together. His tongue quickly invaded your mouth, and you captured it gently with your teeth as you stroked it with your own, eliciting a loud moan. His hands were roaming freely up and down your back, and you arched into his touch like a cat being stroked, grasping the lapels of his blazer and pressing yourself closer to him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal through his chinos, and the press of his cock against you made you shiver with anticipation. 

Your own clothes were starting to feel hot and restrictive, but almost as though he could read your mind, Paul was soon pulling your top free from the waistband of your trousers and throwing it to the side, moving his mouth immediately to your nipples. His soft hands and hot mouth on your exposed flesh felt unbelievable, and you panted and moaned as you pressed closer to him, trying to grind against the bulge in his trousers. You slid your hands across his chest and under his blazer, pushing it down his shoulders until he shrugged out of it. Then you got to work on the buttons of his shirt, though your shaking fingers slowed you down somewhat. Finally, your bare chests were pressed together, and your tongues mingled lazily in your mouth as you both caught your breath for a moment. He cupped his hands around your denim clad arse and pulled your hips roughly against his, grunting as you slid against his cock.

“Getting a little impatient?” you asked, trying to sound teasing, though the breathlessness in your voice betrayed your own impatience. Paul only grunted in reply, instead pulling your hips against his again and returning his mouth to your collarbone. This time you gasped at the friction. “Fuck, Paul, that feels so good. You feel so good.” 

“Yeah?” he lifted his face to look at you, and you were surprised to see a flicker of vulnerability there for the first time since you’d met him/

“Oh yeah, really.” you answered. Then, sliding a hand down to stroke his erection through his clothes, you leaned in and whispered in his ear, “I want to taste you.”. Then you slowly extracted yourself from his lap, never breaking eye contact, and sunk to your knees between his thighs. You ran your hands firmly up them, licking your lips as you felt the warmth of him through his trousers. His cock was tenting the slacks considerably, and you could tell it must be uncomfortable for him. You moved your hands up to his belt buckle and slowly, deliberately, undid it, as he watched you with hooded, lust-clouded, eyes. His belt being freed, you took your time popping each button of his fly, before pulling his trousers down to his ankles so you could run your hands along his hairy thighs. His breathing was heavy now, and he looked incredible from your position on the floor, his shirt hanging open and boxer-briefs straining to hold his cock, which had already left a little wet patch of pre-cum on them. You slowly lowered your head and wrapped your lips around the bulge, teasing him through the fabric.

“Oh fuck [y/n], please don’t tease me anymore.” You looked up and saw that his face and chest were flushed and he was gripping the edge of the bench with white knuckles. 

“What do you want me to do?” you said, pulling off and grinning at him.

He growled low in his chest but made no answer.

“Paul?”

“I want you to suck me off!” he said, with a slight scoff. His voice echoed around the huge marble hall, and sent a shudder of arousal through you.

“As you wish.” You answered, hooking your fingers into his boxers and sliding them down, freeing his cock at last. It stood, tall and thick against his stomach, and you hungrily watched a bead of pre-come forming at the head. Taking him in hand, you flicked out your tongue to taste him at last, enjoying the salt and sweat and musk of him. He groaned low and long, and you hummed in appreciation - you always enjoyed the noises you could pull from him. You licked a slow route from base to tip, tracing his veins with your tongue, before wrapping your lips around his head and taking him in as far as your mouth would allow, dragging your tongue across his slit. You felt him shudder beneath you, and placed a steadying hand on his hip crease, as your other hand was wrapped around his cock. He took a fistful of your hair to guide you, and you set a slow, lazy rhythm, enjoying the echo of his enjoyment in this empty hall that was usually so packed you could barely see the marbles.

After a couple of minutes you felt his breathing quicken and his balls tighten, so you pulled your mouth off him, wrapping your fingers tightly around the base of his cock. He groaned in frustration, hissing out an expletive as his pleasure subsided.

“Wouldn’t want things to be over this quickly, would you?” you asked as he tried to get a handle on his breath. You stood up and slowly unbuttoned your jeans, pulling them off along with your underwear, before settling back in his lap and kissing him again. You enjoyed the thought that he was tasting himself on your tongue, and tried to make the kiss as deep as possible. But his cock was nudging at you now, and you were fast running out of patience.

He broke the kiss to ask “Can I…?” taking his cock in hand and lining it up with your entrance. 

You didn’t answer him. Instead you braced your hands on his chest, kissed him deeply again, and sunk your hips down, taking him in in one slow movement that drew deep moans out of both of you. His cock filled you up, and you felt every inch of him as you both sat pressed together in stillness, taking in the moment. Even now, with Paul’s cock inside you, you were still amazed by the beauty of the room you were in, the spectacle of the ancient artwork. You wondered idly whether the two of you were the first people to fuck in front of the Parthenon marbles in the 2500 years since they had been carved. But when Paul drew his hands down to cup your arse and lift you, before slamming you roughly back down on his cock, you quickly forgot about the marbles. 

He set a steady pace, taking care to drag his cock against your sweet spot with every thrust. The sound of your bodies slapping together and the twin symphony of your moans echoed around the hall. He pressed his face into your shoulder as you rode him, staking his claim on you with a firm bite that made you cry out in pleasure and drag your nails across his sweat-dewed shoulders. You were nearing your peak, and you could tell Paul was too. You both picked up speed as you chased your pleasure, the harsh sounds of skin meeting and ragged breath huffing spurring you on. When you finally climaxed, it was with a loud cry and a string of expletives, Paul following you a moment later and groaning out your name.

You sat on the bench, still-joined as you came back down to earth, until Paul softened and slipped out of you. You both (and the marble bench) were slick with sweat and cum, and it occurred to you that the museum probably wouldn’t be best pleased that you left bodily fluids in the gallery. But oh well, Paul had organised this - it was his problem, not yours. You kissed him softly on the lips, gently stroking his beard, before standing up and retrieving your discarded clothes. You both redressed and left the gallery hand in hand. As you approached the exit of the museum, the tour guide from earlier was waiting to see you out.

“I hope you both enjoyed your evening.” they said, looking knowingly at Paul. Paul smiled at them and shook their hand, and you could have sworn you saw a banknote change hands as he did.

“Thank you. I do too.” He said, looking back at you and grinning.


End file.
